


waiting for the morning

by kissmesexybatman



Series: show me the sun [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-19 08:24:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12406725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissmesexybatman/pseuds/kissmesexybatman
Summary: When Keith goes missing without a trace, all Pidge can do is try to keep her brother and their friends together. When he doesn't come back, she has to do her best to move on.A longer look at the year Keith went missing in "the ghost of you."





	waiting for the morning

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS FOR: panic attacks, nightmares, mentions of past character death (Pidge's family I'm sorry Matt), character death in that Pidge thinks Keith is dead (he's not but you won't get that closure in this part), and character death via nightmare. Also some very brief gore. My bad?
> 
> You could probably read this without reading the first part, and definitely without the second, but then you will likely be very very sad. Again... my bad.

Pidge huffed a laugh at the lines of gun and knife emojis Lance sent her, earning a dark look from another student studying near where she sat in the library. She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at them, settling for a glare of her own as she tapped out a reply to Lance.

 

>>Me: i’m right and u kno it lancelot. back to work

 

She waited, but he didn’t reply. Some people might take that as a sign they’d won the argument; Pidge figured it actually meant that Lance’s supervisor had caught him texting and was currently tearing him a new one.

 

Sighing, no excuse or distraction left to her, Pidge turned back to her programming, losing herself in the lines of code.

 

Two hours later saw her packing up to hoof it across campus to the CS lab she was in charge of this term. There was  _ still  _ no word from Lance. Not a single emoji, even. It wasn’t  _ unusual,  _ per se, and maybe this particular lecture had finally straightened Lance out and turned him into a good little worker bee, but Pidge couldn’t shake the prickle of anxiety crawling down her spine. She’d been living with Lance since she was eleven. She’d spent the last  _ decade  _ trying to instill some sense of responsibility and work ethic into her easy-going brother. There was no  _ way  _ his manager had done it in a single afternoon.

 

Still, Pidge reasoned, shoving the library doors open and squinting at the sun beating down on her, she was likely worried over nothing. Lance had probably started chatting with a customer and forgotten to reply to her, or something. It happened all the time.

 

She repeated the thought over and over as she walked down sidewalks and up stairs, on an autopilot route to the computer lab. It didn’t help. That seed of dread had buried itself in her guts and its roots were creeping towards her heart.

 

Thankfully, her lab section always managed to take her mind off of literally anything else. It was boring, simple coding, helping intro students finish up their first webpages for their final project, but everyone seemed to have a different problem. Pidge was kept busy helping people find errors and troubleshoot their code.

 

Ten minutes before the end of the hour-long lab, though, a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Turning, she saw one of the peer advisors from the computer science office step into the room, closely followed by Lance.

 

Her heart did a funny skip-drop as simultaneous relief and fear crashed over her. He was okay, standing there and smiling at something the peer advisor said before leaving, but the expression was tight and brief in a way that turned her blood to ice.

 

Pidge didn’t even know what excuse she gave to the student she was helping before she was up, moving towards Lance with the sickening impression of being stuck in a bad dream. “Hey.”

 

Lance gave her another smile, but it was forced and  _ wrong _ , and didn’t reach his dark eyes at all. “Hey.”

 

“What’s wrong?” She barely managed to get the words through her tight throat.

 

Lance sighed and swallowed hard before he spoke. “Keith is missing.”

 

***

 

Early in Pidge’s undergrad career, one of her more eccentric professors had compared the world to a computer program. Her classmates had rolled their eyes and laughed and cracked jokes about the Matrix, and Pidge was inclined to agree, but something about the metaphor had stuck with her. The world, the people in it, were far more complex than any computer program, but it was all about  _ patterns.  _ Everything was an intricate arrangement of specific elements, coming together to form a functioning program, and one typo, one broken loop, one single missing curlique bracket could render the entire thing meaningless. Incomprehensible.

 

That’s how it felt, when Keith vanished. Like one integral element had been removed and suddenly the world didn’t make sense anymore.

 

Even worse, it was a feeling chillingly familiar to Pidge.

 

The computer screen flashed with another error message and Pidge groaned, rubbing her sore eyes. It was well past two A.M., and she hadn’t really slept for the last four nights, but she didn’t even want to  _ think  _ about going to bed. The nap she had tried to take the day before twisted and melted into the kind of nightmare she hadn’t had in years, and she woke up in a cold sweat, gasping Matt’s name.

 

Yeah. Sleep could wait. 

 

Sighing, Pidge typed in a new command and let the program run again.

 

“Hey.”

 

Pidge yelped, clutching her laptop and jolting upright on the couch, and Lance gave a chuckle. It was weak and tired, nothing like his usual laugh, but it was the first one she’d heard in days.  _ “Jesus, _ Lance, thanks for the heart attack.”

 

He dropped onto the couch next to her. “Welcome.”

 

She looked over at him, illuminated by the glow of her screen and the faint light filtering in through the windows of their living room. He looked  _ tired,  _ right down to his bones, and that wasn’t a word she usually associated with Lance. He slumped on the couch, limbs splayed listlessly, eyes heavy and shadowed. His only movement was a slow drumming of his fingers against the cushions of their old sofa as he stared off into middle distance.

 

Lance wasn’t supposed to look like that; she’d never tell him, but his seemingly-boundless energy had kept her going when she was sure nothing could. Pidge couldn’t stand it. She reached over and caught his tapping fingers. He looked over at her, startled, like he’d been a million miles away.

 

Well, she thought tiredly, they all had been, the last few days.

 

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked him, setting her laptop on the coffee table.

 

He shrugged and sent her a pointed look. “Looks like I’m not the only one. Have you slept at all?”

 

“I took a nap earlier,” Pidge protested, half-hearted. She left out how long  _ that  _ had lasted.

 

Lance, damn him, knew her too well, and the look he gave her said exactly how much he believed her. “Uh huh.”

 

She stared him down for a long minute before looking away with a sigh. “I... don’t want to sleep,” she mumbled.

 

“Nightmares?”

 

Still watching the lights of passing cars flaring and fading on their walls, Pidge nodded. She heard Lance sigh beside her.

 

“Well, since we’re both up…” He stood and stretched. “Want some cocoa?”

 

For the first time in days, the tight, sick fist around Pidge’s throat loosened enough to let her smile. “Yes, please.”

 

Lance slid an arm around her shoulders and dropped a quick kiss on her head before he vanished into the kitchen. He was always a tactile person, Pidge had accepted that long ago, but the last few days everything felt like it meant  _ more,  _ like Lance was trying to anchor her, or maybe himself, against the chaos their whole world had become.

 

Pidge closed her eyes and let out a shuddering sigh. When she opened them, another error message flashed at her from her laptop. She slammed the lid shut in frustration and used her toe to nudge it to the other side of the coffee table, rising and cracking her spine before following Lance into the kitchen.

 

Leaning against the doorway, Pidge watched Lance work. He’d turned on the light over the stove, and it just threw the shadows and tired lines on his face into harsher relief as he moved almost mechanically between the stove and the fridge, slowly gathering his ingredients.

 

Pidge could still remember how  _ numb  _ she felt after her father and brother died, like everything was faded and far away, punctuated by moments of horrified clarity. Grief drained you out like marrow from a bone, leaving you shaky and fragile and ready to break at any second. 

 

That’s what Lance looked like, like someone had drained the life right out of him, and the cracks in Pidge’s heart widened a little more at the sight.

 

Keith had been Lance’s best friend almost since she had known him. Hunk was also Lance’s best friend, yes, but it was in a different way. Keith and Lance had been by each other’s sides all through high school, through their first years of college before Keith dropped out, constantly challenging and supporting and driving each other to greater heights. They were the type of people who just  _ fit  _ in some way Pidge couldn’t quite comprehend.

 

And it wasn’t like they didn’t  _ know  _ how much the other meant to them. Pidge had watched Lance quietly and stubbornly pine after Keith for  _ years,  _ never accepting the idea if he could just nut up and  _ talk  _ to him he might actually get what he wanted, because Keith spent nearly the same amount of time giving Lance these looks that spoke of just how deep his feelings ran. The last couple years, ever since Lance graduated, they had been growing even closer-- enough Pidge and Hunk had actually started a bet on when they would finally get together.  _ They’re already basically dating,  _ Pidge had snorted.  _ They just have to figure that out. _

 

And now, years of friendship and loyalty and carefully restricted emotion was crashing down around Lance, and it hurt to see. Pidge ached for him, in these moments where he was so lost and blank, almost more than she did for herself.

 

Because, guiltily, Pidge could admit to herself how much this was hurting her too. When she lost her first family, she was certain that she was never going to find another, that she was alone in the world. Lance had shattered that belief, with his bright smiles and loud laughs that ignored all her scowls and distance, and her other friends had crept into her life in his wake. She’d never grown too close with the rest of Lance’s family, even though they were good people, but Hunk and Keith and Shiro and Allura had all helped to fill that hollow, shadowy place inside her. Having even a piece of that ripped away was like exposing an old wound to the air; it  _ hurt,  _ deeper and darker than she could have ever expected.

 

A warm hand was placed between her shoulder blades, and Pidge blinked back into the present as Lance gently pressed her against his chest, two steaming mugs held in his free hand. She was shaking, she realized as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

 

“What happened to him?” she whispered, muffled against his shirt. “Where did he go?”

 

Lance took a long time to reply. “I don’t know. But we’re gonna find him, Pidgey.”

 

Pidge closed her eyes and swallowed hard and tried to ignore the voice in the back of her mind that whispered,  _ Liar. _ They would never stop looking,  _ she  _ would never stop looking, but there was a deep-seated dread eating away at the back of her consciousness that said Keith was already gone.

 

Lance nudged her gently, like he could hear her brain spinning out of control. “C’mon. Let’s go watch something stupid.”

 

Pidge breathed in the smell of laundry detergent and hot cocoa and pulled away with a determined nod, shoving her worry back down inside herself. “Okay.”

 

***

 

When she was little, people used to call Pidge a genius. She’d been put in accelerated courses beginning in middle school, trying to balance the classes to keep them fair for the other kids, trying to keep  _ her  _ occupied enough to stop getting into trouble.

 

In high school, she’d been put in the same math classes as Lance and Hunk, two years ahead of her. She could have even bumped up another grade, if she was really being honest, but they were the only reason she even  _ went  _ to that class every day. In college, she’d finished seven courses with an A even though she only ever showed up for the final.

 

The point was, Pidge wasn’t used to coming up against problems she couldn’t solve.

 

A month after Keith went missing, she still hadn’t found a trace of him.

 

That dark knot of fear that had sunk its teeth into her spine that very first day that Lance hadn’t answered her texts had grown into a yawning pit under her feet, leaving her fighting every day just to keep her balance. She had hacked into practically every account Keith had. There was no activity on  _ any  _ of them. It was like he had vanished right off the face of the planet.

 

In desperation, she had even spent a few days combing through John Doe admittances to hospitals in a three hundred mile radius. There was nothing.

 

As the days passed, a horrible and familiar dread had sank into her, right down to her bones. 

 

Because as time went on, Pidge knew Keith wasn’t coming back.

 

This time, though, she had no closure. With her father and Matt, even though it had been short and brutal and  _ cruel,  _ she had at least  _ known  _ they were gone. She had a pair of gravestones to stand over to prove it to herself. 

 

With Keith, Pidge had to keep her grief locked up inside herself, clawing at her ribs like a caged animal. Hunk hadn’t given up hope, still out on the weekends wandering the streets of the city putting up and passing out flyers. Shiro had retreated into himself, pale and drawn and more shaken than she’d ever seen him, and she just couldn’t take away whatever thin hope he was still clinging to.

 

And Lance…

 

To be honest, Pidge wasn’t sure if Lance had any hope left that Keith would ever come back. He shuffled around their apartment, to his job, through his  _ life _ like a zombie, blue eyes distant and hollow. He barely ate, and slept even less. 

 

They had never really talked about it, whether or not Lance thought Keith was still alive, but if Pidge was being truly, brutally honest with herself, she was too scared of what his answer might be. Her hope was already gone, drained into the ground six feet below, and she wasn’t sure she could keep going if she knew Lance had given up too. 

 

So she stayed quiet and put her hope in him instead.

 

The tradeoff for her self-imposed private grief was the worst nightmares she’d ever had.

 

It was like the years of bad dreams she’d suffered after her family’s accident piled up and compounded and returned with interest. Almost every night now she woke up sweating and shaking and gasping for Matt, her father,  _ Keith _ . The phantom shatter of glass and metal reverberated through the silent darkness of her bedroom, pressing in on her until she had to just get  _ out,  _ ground herself in the present.

 

Pidge wasn’t religious, but she would thank every single deity in human history for sending her Lance.

 

Because every time she had a bad dream, her brother was there. Usually she could drag herself shakily out of bed and stumble down the hall to find him, stretched out on the couch like he was most nights now, and just grab onto him and  _ breathe  _ and shove the past back into the dark.

 

Some nights, though, the bad nights, Lance would come in and sit next to her and rub her back gently until she stopped sobbing into her blanket-covered knees.

 

Six weeks after Keith vanished, Pidge had the worst nightmare of her entire life.

 

Because it hadn’t been her dad or Matt or Keith this time.

 

It had been  _ Lance,  _ his still face under a mask of blood and glass, blue eyes staring sightlessly into the distance as Pidge screamed his name.

 

She woke up still screaming.

 

Her dark bedroom swam in front of her, lights flashing and popping as she sobbed for breath that couldn’t get down her choked throat, clawed at the sheets and blankets twisted around her like shackles, and she couldn’t  _ move,  _ couldn’t  _ see,  _ didn’t even know where she was or what was real or if she was alone, all alone again in the whole wide world.

 

Her bedroom door flew open and the dark, lanky shape of her brother stumbled into the room. He was saying something, she could hear his voice under her own gasping and the ringing in her ears, but the words weren’t making sense.

 

Lance fumbled with the light beside her bed as he dropped onto the covers next to her, squinting against the sudden light that almost blinded both of them.

 

Pidge didn’t care, though, because he was there in front of her, sharp eyebrows knitted together in a worried frown, mouth still tracing words she couldn’t understand yet, and she let out another sob as she grabbed the front of his soft nightshirt and hauled herself forward to fall against his chest.

 

Immediately, his arms came up to wrap around her, loosely at first until she pressed in a little closer and he tightened his grip until she was practically crushed against him. She buried her fingers in the back of his shirt and focused on just breathing along with the deep, exaggerated heaves she could feel in Lance’s chest.

 

After a minute, the swimming in her head calmed down enough the popping colors behind her closed eyes faded back into blackness and she could finally focus on the words Lance was saying.

 

It was nonsense, mostly, just shushing noises and instructions to keep breathing and “It’s okay, Pidgey, I got you, we’re okay.”

 

Her eyes stung behind her eyelids and she squeezed him a little tighter.

 

One of his hands came up to stroke through her hair, and Pidge realized she wasn’t the only one shaking. “You back with me, kiddo?”

 

That was a nickname he hadn’t pulled out in  _ years,  _ and Pidge couldn’t help but huff a tiny, wet laugh. Her voice caught and broke as she replied, “Yeah, I’m here.”

 

Lance blew out a long, shaky breath, keeping her tight against him. “What happened?”

 

Pidge squeezed her eyes shut a little tighter. “Bad dream.”

 

“You were  _ screaming,  _ Pidge, jesus. I thought you were hurt or something.”

 

“ _ Really  _ bad dream,” she amended, absently nuzzling into him.

 

He tapped her on the back of the head as his voice took on a teasing tone, and they both ignored the thinness to it. “Are you wiping your nose on me, you little gremlin?”

 

And Pidge couldn’t help but let out another hiccuping laugh, holding onto Lance as she scrubbed her tearstained face into his shirt and he yelped and squirmed in protest.

 

He didn’t let go of her for a long, long time though, and Pidge was perfectly happy to sit there in her half-lit room with him and make silly, childish jokes and let her fears ebb away for just a few hours.

 

***

 

Lance asked her about the nightmare the next day. She refused to tell him. It would only make him feel bad, like it was somehow  _ his  _ fault, and she already knew his guilt over Keith was eating him alive from the inside out.

 

It was a few weeks after that he suggested they take a day trip to the beach.

 

He proposed it one day as they were both shuffling around the kitchen in the morning, retrieving their various preferred breakfast foods.

 

Pidge wrinkled her nose at him as she poured herself a mug of coffee. “It’s gonna be  _ cold.”  _

 

“Who cares?” Lance said around a mouthful of cereal. He was disgustingly cheerful in the mornings, Pidge reflected bitterly, scowling into her next sip of caffeine. 

 

“I care, doofus, I’m the one being dragged out there.”

 

He pointed his spoon at her. “That was agreement! You just agreed.”

 

“I did  _ not.” _

 

“You totally did.”

 

Pidge groaned, shoving her glasses up to rub at her tired eyes. “Why do you even want to go to the beach?”

 

Lance took another bite, crunching noisily. Suddenly, Pidge wasn’t so hungry for her bagel. “You just deflected, so I totally won that argument. To answer your question, though, I just wanna get out of town. It feels like forever since we’ve actually  _ gone  _ anywhere.”

 

And… yeah, it did, but they had all been busy looking for Keith all summer. The seasons were turning now, the mornings cool and gray and bright leaves starting to fall off of trees. Still, Pidge couldn’t help the edge of apprehension that bit at her.

 

It  _ would  _ be good to get out of town, Lance was right. But it also felt an awful lot like giving up on Keith.

 

Pidge took a second to breathe into her coffee, closing her eyes, and Lance let the quiet moment stretch out between them.

 

And Pidge already knew the logical answer: it wouldn’t matter where they were, because there was nothing they could do anymore. They had poured everything they had into looking for Keith, and they had found nothing. Maybe there was something there  _ to  _ find, and maybe not, but the fact remained that they couldn’t do anything until something changed.

 

And she knew Lance, so she knew why he was proposing this: they couldn’t let this ruin their lives, too.

 

It sounded almost cruel, but Pidge  _ understood, _ she really did. She felt it every time she looked at Hunk’s worried face, or watched Shiro’s eyes blank out at he stared into middle distance, or came out into the living room in the morning to find Lance slumped on the couch, sleeping fitfully with heavy dark shadows under his eyes.

 

This would ruin them if they let it.

 

So she took another deep breath as she met Lance’s sharp gaze and swirled her coffee in her mug and said, as nonchalantly as she could, “Yeah, I guess it has.”

 

The grin, wide and sincere, that spread across his face was worth it.

 

***

 

Winter that year was warmer and wetter than it had been in a while. Pidge was pretty sure there was a solid stretch of two months where they didn’t see the sun once.

 

With all the rain, they couldn’t make many beach trips, but Lance dragged Pidge out of the house practically every weekend to do something, go to bookstores or museums or whatever happened to catch his interest that week.

 

Pidge wasn’t oblivious. She knew what he was doing, knew he was trying his hardest to keep them together and moving forward.

 

And she couldn’t deny that it was  _ working.  _ Hunk still kept the missing persons flyer in the window of his bakery, but his eyes strayed to it less and less during her frequent visits there as his worried wrinkles faded back into laugh lines. Shiro came back into his life slowly, volunteering more of his free time at a local martial arts institute working with troubled kids. He was undeniably good at it, just the right mix of supportive and firm. Not to mention he was probably the most genuinely  _ nice  _ person Pidge had ever met. Kids can sense that shit.

 

Lance’s ploy even seemed to work on himself, his jokes and smiles and laughter coming easier with every passing day. He still slept on the couch a lot, but not all the time, and Pidge would take it.

 

He still got these looks, on occasion, gazing off into middle distance with a quiet wrinkle between his brows and a heavy, tired sadness in his eyes. Pidge hated it, but she didn’t know what to do. None of them could bring Keith back.

 

So she tried to fill the hole in their lives by moving on with herself, too, and tried to shove down the guilt she felt when she stopping checking Keith’s account activity, as her nightmares faded back to rare occasions and it felt almost normal to grab a table with one less chair when they all went out together.

 

They kept the holidays pretty low-key, though. Lance in particular seemed more weighed down the week before Christmas, shadows darkening under his eyes again. The holidays were his favorite time of the year, Pidge knew, after a decade of suffering under his winter-themed enthusiasm. 

 

She missed it more than she expected.

 

So they kept things quiet and didn’t even get a tree, and they had a small little holiday party at Hunk’s place, the last one before he and Shay moved in together the next month, and then New Year’s passed and the holidays had slid right by without a fuss.

 

Things picked up where they left off again. Moving on, moving forward, never forgetting but learning to cope. It was a long process, and one Pidge was intimately familiar with. She kept as careful an eye on everyone as she could as the new term started and she was thrown back into the chaos of grad school again.

 

This year was particularly stressful since they had crossed the incredibly thin line between “just starting” into the realm of “finishing soon.” Half her peers had already started internships and jobs for practical experience. Pidge had been meaning to set something up for the fall term, but with their summer… it didn’t happen. Now, as January washed into a particularly rainy February, she was feeling the pressure.

 

Absently chewing at the rim of her paper coffee cup, Pidge browsed through the seemingly endless internship listings. She’d been looking for a while, but only one program recently had caught her eye, and, well… She still wasn’t sure. She huffed a sigh that echoed in her empty, abused cup.

 

“Not going well?” Hunk dropped into the seat across from her with a smile.

 

She groaned in response, sinking down to rest her head on her arms. Hunk patted her hair sympathetically.

 

The bakery he ran, now jointly with his girlfriend, Shay, was only a ten minute walk from campus. It was a little far for a cup of coffee, but Pidge had known Hunk only for only a few hours less than she knew Lance, so the walk was worth it. The cinnamon rolls were merely a bonus. 

 

“I’m never gonna graduate,” she said to the table. “I’m going to be stuck in academia forever.”

 

Hunk hummed thoughtfully. “Well, considering you finished your undergrad in three years, I’m pretty sure that’s not true.”

 

“This  _ sucks  _ though.”

 

He laughed. “And this is why I never got my Master’s.”

 

Pidge peeked up at him. Hunk had always been a genius in mechanical engineering, but for some reason, after he graduated, he started his own bakery instead of pursuing a higher degree. She had asked him a few times, but he always just said he wasn’t interested in engineering as a career. Honestly, she didn’t really understand, but as long as he was happy, she wasn’t going to argue with him about it.

 

“Why didn’t you stop me?” she grumbled, straightening up to crack her spine.

 

Hunk winced at the chorus of pops. “I tried. You didn’t listen.”

 

Pidge looked him in the eye, solemn. “Hunk, never let me ignore your advice ever again.”

 

“I’ve got your back,” he promised, deadpan, before cracking a smile. Pidge huffed a laugh, tossing her coffee cup into the trash can from halfway across the room. “Seriously, though,” he said, watching her victory fist-pump, “you haven’t found anything?”

 

She sighed again, spinning her laptop around so he could peer at the screen. “I mean, there are plenty of internships available, there just aren’t many I’m actually  _ interested  _ in. I’m starting to think maybe I should just bite the bullet and get a boring one just to knock out some experience.”

 

Hunk glanced up at her with shrewd eyes. “You said not  _ many  _ you’re interested in. So there are some, right?”

 

She hesitated for a second. “One. But… well, here.” Spinning her laptop back towards her, she pulled up the application, then pushed it back to Hunk. 

 

His eyebrows rose as he scanned the page. “This… is a really cool position.”

 

“I know,” she sighed.

 

“At a  _ really  _ impressive company.”

 

“I _ know,”  _ she groaned, propping her chin in her hand. “That’s the problem.”

 

Hunk’s eyebrows drew together as he clicked through the page. “I mean, it would be tough, definitely. This is a competitive program. But you’re also totally qualified for it.”

 

_ “I know,”  _ Pidge said, yet again, methodically tracing the wood grain in the table to avoid his eyes.

 

Hunk looked up at her with a raised eyebrow. “So if you’re interested and qualified, why haven’t you applied?”

 

“Well,” she started reluctantly, “it’s on site.” Hunk nodded, eyebrows still raised. “Like, at their headquarters, Hunk. Five hundred miles away.”

 

Understanding dawned on his face. “You don’t want to leave Lance.”

 

“That’s not it,” Pidge insisted, scrambling to come up with a better excuse. “I just… hate travelling.”

 

It would have worked better if she hadn’t know Hunk for ten years, because he calmly replied, “No, you don’t. Have you talked to Lance about this?”

 

“No,” she admitted, back to tracing the lines in the table. 

 

Hunk studied her for a second before shrugging. “Well, I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I know what Lance would say.”

 

“So do I,” she grumbled, but Hunk continued anyways.

 

“He would want you to go for it. You can’t give up on things you want to do for someone else, you know?”

 

“Maybe it’s just that I don’t wanna go,” Pidge retorted, petulant even to her own ears.

 

Hunk shrugged again. “Then that’s your decision. But it should be one that you make for yourself, based on what  _ you  _ want to do. Lance will be okay without you.” He paused for a second. “Okay, he’ll be a little upset. But he would still want you to do it.”

 

A half-smile tugged at Pidge’s lips. “He’ll be insufferable without me, and you know it.”

 

“Probably,” Hunk agreed cheerfully, “but we’ll keep an eye on him. Besides, you can always apply and then turn it down if you decide you really don’t want to go.”

 

“Yeah, that’s true,” Pidge replied, taking the computer back from him and letting her eyes trace over the page. She already had a half-completed application saved on her hard drive from the night she had found it and started filling it out in an excited rush before realizing what she would really be signing up for.

 

Hunk clapped her on the shoulder as he passed on his way back to the kitchen. “Like I said, your decision, but don’t talk yourself out of it without really thinking it over.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” she replied, glancing up at him. “Thanks, Hunk.”

 

“Anytime,” he said over his shoulder. “Oh, and I’ll have Shay bring you another coffee.”

 

“You’re a lifesaver!” she called after him, getting a wave in response, before she turned back to her computer and opened the application. She stared at the blinking cursor for only a few seconds before squaring her shoulders and tapping away at the keyboard, filling in the blank fields.

 

***

 

_ “Hunk!”  _ Pidge shouted as she barrelled through the doors of the bakery, panting and dripping with rainwater from her sprint from campus.

 

Behind the counter, Hunk jumped, dropping a stack of metal trays. They clattered to the floor, and the other customers all turned to give Pidge stares ranging between curious and annoyed as she rushed to the counter, still heaving for breath.

 

“What? What is it? What’s going on? Are you okay? Is everyone okay?” Hunk’s questions ran together in one worried breath as he hurried around the counter, grabbing her by the shoulders.

 

She nodded and waved a hand vaguely, sucking in enough breath to say, “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine, I just…” She paused to take another breath. Running was  _ evil.  _ “I got a reply. About the application.”

 

Her words took a second to land, but Hunk’s eyes went wide. “You did?” She nodded. “You got in?” Another nod, this time as a huge grin broke out across her face, and Hunk gasped and lifted her into the air in a hug. “Oh my gosh,  _ Pidge!”  _ he shouted, squeezing the breath she’d managed to regain back out of her lungs. “I knew you could do it! I mean, I’m still so proud of you, but I  _ knew  _ it!”

 

“Hunk,” she managed, tapping his side as best she could from where he arms were pinned against her. “Can’t breathe.”

 

“Oh, sorry.” He loosened his grip a little, and she sucked in a grateful gulp of air before he was leaning back to look her in the eye. “Seriously, though, that’s awesome. I’m so proud of you.”

 

“You said that already,” she pointed out, still grinning so wide her cheeks were starting to ache.

 

“Yeah, because I’m just that proud,” Hunk declared, finally setting her back on her feet. “Celebratory coffee and cake?”

 

“Yes, please.” She tugged her bag and hoodie back into place and flattened her wild, damp hair. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the other customers turning back to their own food and devices and books. Hunk ducked back behind the espresso counter, and she leaned against it, watching as he packed a shot with ground coffee.

 

“So,” he asked as he worked, “are you taking it, then?”

 

She frowned, fiddling with the strap on her bag. “I haven’t decided yet,” she said at length.

 

Hunk glanced up at her with knowing eyes. “You haven’t told Lance yet, have you?”

 

“No,” she admitted, hunching her shoulders a little.

 

“You’ll have to tell him before you leave, you know,” he teased, but the way he said it was so matter-of-fact it took the words a second to sink in.

 

“I just told you, Hunk, I’m not sure I’m taking it yet.”

 

He raised an eyebrow at her and said nothing as he poured milk into a steaming pitcher.

 

“Okay, fine,” she relented. “I’m taking it.”

 

“Good for you,” Hunk said, earnestly, and when she looked up at him he had a big smile on his face. “It’s sounds like a really cool opportunity, and you’re obviously excited about it.”

 

She nodded, slowly. “I am. Just...” The happiness was draining out of her, out through the pit of dread in her stomach. “How am I supposed to tell him?”

 

Hunk set a cup in front of her and said, succinctly, “Just tell him.”

 

She cast him an exasperated look.  _ “Hunk.”  _

 

He shrugged placidly. “I’m serious. I know you’re worried about Lance, but he’ll be okay without you for a few weeks, Pidge. He doesn’t always act like it but he is, you know, an adult.”

 

“I  _ know  _ that, I’m- it’s-” She raked a hand through her wet hair, frustrated. “I don’t want to leave him,” she mumbled, finally.

 

Hunk was quiet for a second before asking, “You’re worried he’ll disappear like Keith, aren’t you?”

 

Pidge flinched a little at the name. No one had really talked about him in a few months, just silently moving around the hole in their lives, fading fast as time went on.

 

Hunk’s gaze was serious as it rested on her. “What happened to Keith wasn’t your fault, Pidge. It wasn’t anyone’s.”

 

She forgot, sometimes, just how perceptive he was. “I know,” she started, trying to keep the uncertainty out of her voice. “I just don’t think I should-”

 

“You couldn’t have done anything,” Hunk said in that matter-of-fact tone again, stopping her in her tracks. “Whatever happened with Keith, it was his business. All we can do is be here when he finally comes back.”

 

And maybe this was why they never talked about Keith anymore, because Pidge couldn’t stand that certainty in Hunk’s voice as he said it, like any day now Keith was just going to walk back into their lives. If Pidge was being honest, she’s buried that hope in the ground months ago, on a cold, blustery day at the beach.

 

As the silence stretched out, Hunk sighed. “You should at least talk to Lance about it before you make any decisions. I mean, he’s your brother, right?” She glanced up at him, and he gave her an encouraging nod. “You’ll know if it’s the right thing to do.”

 

She nodded hesitantly. “If you say so.”

 

“I do.”

 

She wrinkled her nose at his confidence. “You seem pretty sure for an only child.”

 

Hunk grinned, moving to clean out the espresso machine. “Hey, I’ve watched you and Lance for years. I picked up a thing or two about siblings.  _ Especially  _ when it comes to you guys.” The bell over the door rang as someone walked in, and Hunk wiped his hands on his apron, moving towards the register.

 

“Stalker,” Pidge muttered, just loud enough for him to catch as she turned away from the counter. She hesitated for a second; she could just sit here for a while and put off going home and seeing Lance for another hour or two, but it was already late afternoon, and putting the problem off wasn’t going to make it go away. Resigned, she tugged her jacket shut and left the bakery, waving to Hunk as she pushed through the door. His enthusiastic thumbs up pulled a smile out of her.

 

The rain had tapered off while she was inside, and now a little watery sun peeked out from between the clouds as she walked down the wet pavement towards the bus stop. It was already late March; if she took this internship, she would be leaving in two months.

 

She turned it over and over in her mind as she made her way to the station, hopping over the occasional puddle. Honestly, she  _ really  _ wanted to accept it. Not only would it look amazing on a resume, this company was doing  _ exactly  _ the stuff she was interested in, and her mouth practically watered at the idea of putting all the skills she’d been practicing to use in such a tangible way.

 

Her only reservation was leaving. Deep down, she knew Hunk was right; Lance would be okay without her, and it wasn’t forever. But she was a little- well,  _ scared.  _ She had lost enough people without leaving herself.

 

It ate at her enough that by the time the bus finally dropped her off at her stop and she climbed the stairs to their apartment, she felt thoroughly exhausted. She unlocked the door in almost a daze, slamming it with her shoulder to get it open-- it always stuck when it rained.

 

The lights were on when she stumbled inside, dropping her bag with a loud  _ thunk  _ and kicking her shoes off, wrinkling her nose at the wet spots on the toes of her socks.

 

“Hey, Pidgey,” Lance called from the kitchen, and her heart gave a slow, guilty squeeze. “Chili for dinner sound good?”

 

“Yeah,” she replied, trying to keep her voice neutral, but it must have come out funny because Lance leaned around the corner with a shrewd look.

 

“Uh-oh, someone had a bad day.”

 

“It wasn’t  _ bad,  _ exactly,” Pidge protested, avoiding eye contact by ducking into her room to grab clean socks and a dry hoodie. 

 

Lance was leaning in the kitchen doorway when she emerged, arms crossed and a wooden spoon in his hand. “Not bad  _ exactly?” _

 

Letting out a frustrated noise, Pidge dropped onto the couch. “Just…. Are you busy?”

 

One of his eyebrows raised. “Like, right now?”

 

“No, tomorrow at two. Yes, now, dolt.”

 

He held his hands up in surrender. “Geez, grumpy. Give me five minutes.”

 

“Sorry,” Pidge mumbled, dropping her gaze to her crossed arms.

 

“That’s okay. Is everything all right?” he asked, and he was so concerned and familiar Pidge couldn’t trust herself to answer without her voice breaking, so she just nodded with a tight smile. It was enough to reassure him, although he still looked a little worried as he headed back into the kitchen. 

 

She listened to him bang some pots and pans around for a few minutes, humming quietly as he worked, and the pit of guilt and worry in her stomach grew quietly bigger.

 

“Okay,” he said, coming out of the kitchen and dropping onto the couch next to her, “what’s up, buttercup?”

 

That startled a little snort of laughter out of her, and he grinned. “Oh, good,” he said. “I’m glad you can still laugh. For a second I was worried we were going to have some serious world-ending talk here.”

 

She sobered up as he spoke. “Yeah, well,” she started, awkward. “Kind of.” She took a second to work out exactly how she wanted to say it.

 

He nudged her. “C’mon, Pidge, you’re freaking me out here.”

 

“Sorry,” she said again, and took a deep breath before continuing. “I applied for an internship a month ago and I got the acceptance letter today.” She was just going to take Hunk’s advice and get it out there.

 

There was a second of silence before Lance choked out,  _ “What?”  _ She looked up at him sharply, scared of what she’d see on his face, but he was already throwing his head back on a laugh. “Seriously, Pidge? That’s awesome! Why are you so doom and gloom about it?”

 

“Because,” she snapped, “it’s two months long and five hundred miles away.”

 

His laughter died pretty quick. “Oh.”

 

And that summed it up pretty well, so she just mumbled, “Yeah,” and they sat there for a long minute without speaking.

 

And then one of Lance’s arms was snaking around her shoulders to pull her into a half-hug, tucked up against his side. “Five hundred miles, huh? Is this that company you’re always saying you want to work for?”

 

She hesitated a second before nodding.

 

“Pidge.” His voice was serious, and she twisted to look up at him as his face split into another smile. “That is  _ so cool.” _

 

She gaped at him for a second before she found her voice again. “Are you serious?”

 

He shot her a confused look. “Um, yes? That’s amazing. I mean, you’re a genius, so of  _ course  _ they would want you, but it’s still awesome. I’m so proud of you,” he added, in a mock warble, snaking his other arm around her waist to squeeze the breath out of her.

 

She smacked him on the arm and let out a strangled,  _ “Lance.”  _ Snickering, he eased off, leaving one arm slung around her. “You’re not upset?” she checked.

 

There was a beat of silence.  _ “Upset?”  _ he echoed, pulling away to sit up straight and look down at her properly. Reluctantly, she straightened up. “Why would I be upset?”

 

“Because it’s like, forever away?” she pointed out, staring at the ceiling to avoid his searching gaze. “And I’m going to be gone for nine weeks?”

 

“Well sure, I’m going to  _ miss  _ you,” he said, and there was a tinge of heat in his voice now, “but I’m not  _ angry  _ at you for it, Pidge, jesus.”

 

She shrugged one shoulder, still stubbornly avoiding eye contact. 

 

“Pidge. Look at me.” After a second, she reluctantly complied. There was concern and confusion written all over his face. “You’ve wanted to work for this company forever. Why are you so worried about this?”

 

She dropped her gaze again as she mumbled, “I didn’t want to leave you.”

 

There was a beat of silence before Lance declared, “That’s bullshit.”

 

“Hey-” she snapped, pushing herself up to glare at him, but he kept talking.

 

“I mean, that’s sweet, Pidge, really-” he ignored the outraged noise she let out at the word  _ sweet-  _ “and I appreciate the thought, or whatever, but you shouldn’t not do things you want to because you’re worried about  _ me.”  _ He took a breath, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to explain, gesturing helplessly. “Like, you shouldn’t let me get in the way of your life. I mean, I get that it’s not  _ me,  _ exactly, because obviously I think you should take this since it’s literally the opportunity of a lifetime, but-” He stopped again. “I need to start this over.”

 

“I  _ do  _ want to take it,” Pidge retorted, “but I also don’t want to leave.”

 

Lance sighed. “I get it, Pidgey, I do, and you absolutely don’t  _ have  _ to take the internship, but if you stay you should be doing it for  _ you,  _ not me.”

 

She deflated a little. “Hunk said the same thing.”

 

With a sage nod, Lance said, “Then it must be true. Hunk is wiser than most owls.”

 

Pidge snorted, unable to help the little smile that crept across her face. “You’re a dork.”

 

Lance huffed out an offended noise, placing a hand on his chest. “How dare you speak to me, your dearest brother, like that?”

 

She rolled her eyes, still trying to fight down her grin. “It’s because you’re a dork,” she told him, and now he was grinning too.

 

“Wounded, Pidgey. You’ve wounded me.”

 

“Shut up,” she snorted, nudging him, and he caught her up in another half-hug as they settled back against the couch. 

 

“So, are you going to take it?”

 

She took a second before she replied, “Yeah, I think I am.”

 

His arm tightened around her, and she slid her own arms around him to hug him back, squeezing her eyes shut for a second.

 

***

 

Sleeping in another city was  _ weird.  _ Pidge was sure she could get used to it, eventually, but it was only her second night here and right now everything just felt  _ wrong.  _ It was louder than back home, even smaller and more thinly walled than her old apartment, and she could hear cars passing by on the street below all night long, engines and horns and even loud conversations as people walked past. It was brighter, too, shadows playing along the walls in time to the traffic.

 

So she hadn’t gotten much sleep. Instead, she laid awake and stared at the ceiling and flickering headlights, agonizing over whether she had made the right choice.

 

Doubt wasn’t an emotion Pidge was terribly familiar with. Usually she had a lot of what Shiro called self-conviction and Lance called stubbornness.

 

But it was like all of that had been stripped away when she stepped onto the train, just her, a backpack and a suitcase, leaving behind  _ everything-  _ her friends, her home, her  _ brother.  _ They would be there when she got back, of course, but without them she felt exposed, vulnerable in a way she wasn’t used to, and she hated being reliant on  _ anything  _ but she hated this even more. 

 

Maybe she should just- go home. She could show up at the office tomorrow and just  _ say  _ it, just tell them,  _ nope, sorry, I made a mistake and you got the wrong person and I’m leaving and never coming back.  _ She was pretty sure she remembered how to get back to the train station. Eight hours and she could be back home. If she texted Lance he would even be waiting for her at the station, she  _ knew  _ it.

 

He’d been- well, not nothing but encouraging, because Lance wouldn’t be  _ Lance  _ if he didn’t whine about her leaving sometimes, but he had been serious in supporting her decision. Every time she wavered, he was there to remind her how long she had wanted this exact opportunity, and how excited she was, and how short it would seem once she got there.

 

And it had helped, it really had. She probably would have chickened out before she even left if he hadn’t been so insistent that she at least  _ try  _ it, and now here she was, trying it, and hating every second.

 

Okay… not  _ every  _ second. But it was the middle of the night and she couldn’t sleep, and for the first time she really understood what people meant by  _ homesick. _

 

And she still couldn’t get the last glimpse she’d seen of her brother out of her head, a tiny, lonesome figure, through the window of the train that was taking her away, his hand raised in farewell.

 

She sighed and rolled over to grab the phone off her nightstand- placed on the opposite side of her bed than she was used to- and checked the time.

 

It was almost four in the morning, but her eyes caught on the notifications below the numbers. She had a missed call and a voicemail, both from Lance and almost three hours old, and she couldn’t help the worried squeeze of her heart as she fumbled with her phone, punching in the passcode she’d had to use to keep Lance and Hunk from constantly changing her background to bad Minion memes, opening her voicemail and pressing the phone to her ear with an impatient hiss as the robotic voice announced,  _ “One new message.” _

 

Lance’s voice came through the speaker faintly, like he didn’t quite have his phone held up to his mouth.  _ “-how to leave a message, robot lady, you don’t have to walk me through it- shit, did it beep already? Pidge!”  _ She yanked the phone away from her ear as he suddenly got about four times as loud.  _ “Hi, Pidgey! Or, Pidge’s voicemail. You’re probably asleep. I hope so, anyways. You should be. Go to sleep,”  _ he said, trying to sound stern and failing miserably with the audible slur in his voice. Pidg huffed out an exasperated laugh; Lance rarely got drunk, but he tended to be even more touchy and floppy than usual on the occasions he did.

 

_ “Anyways, I just wanted to know how you’re doing.”  _ There was a pause.  _ “Well, sort of. I mean, I  _ do,  _ but actually I’m just calling because I miss you like crazy.”  _ He sounded so matter-of-fact about it. Pidge squeezed the phone a little tighter to her ear.  _ “I wanted to call you earlier but I don’t want to be too clingy, y’know? Like I know how hard it was for you to leave already, and I didn’t want to make you feel bad, or anything, but I wanted to call you like, five minutes after you left, Pidge, I swear.”  _ There was another pause before Lance said,  _ “Well, shit. That was what I wasn’t supposed to tell you. Maybe I can erase this message somehow…. Ah, crap, I bet the robot lady told me.”  _ He snorted.  _ “This is what I get for doubting the computers. It’s a good thing you’re doing computer stuff- you can protect me from the robot overlords when they try to conquer the planet.”  _

 

He sniffed and shifted, rustling through the speakers.  _ “Anyways… Right! I hope everything’s going okay for you. I mean, you’re smart as hell, so I’m sure it is, but worrying is part of my contract as a brother. Hunk and Shay and Shiro and Allura took me out for drinks. I think they’re trying to distract me.”  _ His voice went soft and fond.  _ “They were pretty obvious. But I  _ am  _ having fun, so. I guess they win. Don’t tell them, though.” _

 

There was a pause, and then Lance was back, voice so loud Pidge winced.  _ “No, I’m good! Just talking to my sister. Some people across the street wanted to make sure I was okay,”  _ he explained, back to a normal volume.  _ “That was nice of them... I keep forgetting what I’m saying.”  _ Pidge pictured the frustration on his face as he paused again.  _ “Right! I wanted to say that even though I miss you- and I miss you  _ so much,  _ Pidgey, it’s almost stupid- even though I miss you, I’m really proud of you.” _

 

He let out a long sigh as Pidge’s eyes prickled. She sniffed and blinked them back, clutching the phone tighter, as he continued, quiet and sad.  _ “This has been a really shitty year.”  _ He laughed, once, humorless.  _ “That’s an understatement, but. Whatever. I’m really proud of you,”  _ he repeated.  _ “I know you didn’t want to leave, but… we all have to move on, right?”  _ There was silence for a second.  _ “I’m glad I had you though,”  _ Lance said finally, softly.  _ “I don’t know know what I would do without you.”  _ He laughed again, more sincere this time, if a little watery.  _ “Well, that’s always true. You’re the best. Favorite sister ever.”  _ He quieted again before clearing his throat.  _ “Okay, I should go. It’s- fuck, it’s really late, jesus. See? I’m a mess without you. Anyways, I love you a lot, little sister. Call me when you get a chance. And have fun!”  _ There was a pause before Lance mumbled from a distance,  _ “Where’s the stupid end button-” _ and a click.

 

Pidge wiped the tear tracks from her smiling cheeks as the voicemail bot asked her if she wanted to delete or archive the message. Carefully, with a sniff, she saved the message.

 

“Dork,” she mumbled into the darkness of her apartment. It didn’t feel quite so empty anymore.

 

Unlocking her phone again, she tapped out a message.

 

_ >>Me: youd better be drinking water. and take some advil _

 

Smiling again, she added,  _ i love you too  _ before sending it.

 

Lance didn’t reply, but that was okay. He was probably sleeping.

 

Pidge smiled up at the headlights tracking across her ceiling for another moment before rolling over and closing her eyes.

 

_ We’re going to be okay,  _ she thought. For the first time in a long time, the idea didn’t hurt.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, thanks for reading! and hmu with those kudos and comments to make stars appear in my eyes like a goddamn anime character. i'm also on [tumblr](http://saltwatersky.tumblr.com/) if you're interested.
> 
> since it's the third one of these in this series i feel like i've gotta come clean to y'all.... every title in this series is taken from a twenty one pilots song. every single one. i don't even regret it i'm such a ho for that whiny white boy music. this particular title is from [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OLKlFw2ab1M).
> 
> also, big thanks to kelly and anaahat for beta'ing this for me! i got this 98% done and then let it sit in my drafts for about three months so they were very helpful in getting me to actually post it


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